Sweet Memories
by AutumnCadenza
Summary: Sixteen year old Petra Ral is diagnosed with severe memory loss and is admitted into Saint Rose's Psychiatric Hospital for Children. She might never get her memories back, she knows that. What she doesn't know is that a certain someone at the hospital might change her life forever.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello, everyone! I have here a new Rivetra fic. By the way, I have decreased the character's ages to high school age, so Petra is about 16 years old, meaning that the characters Eren's age will be around 13 and 14 years old (but that doesn't mean that they won't have their deep character stories). Reincarnation AU  
**

**Anyway, I don't own Shingeki no Kyojin and all of that disclaimer stuff. Inspiration is from Naty17's The Girl in the Ward. Enjoy~  
**

Chapter 1: First Night

"Patient name, Petra Ral. Age, 16 years old. Diagnosis, Lacunar amnesia. Cause is head trauma to the hippocampus. Witnesses report that the patient attempted to stop a fight at a party, but got hit in the head with an alcohol bottle of some sorts. Stayed in a coma for two weeks. Severity of memory loss proabably requires more tests to verify..." The doctor droned on a list of injuries and diagnoses that seemed to trail on for eternity.

Petra Ral could barely keep her eyes open, much less concentrate on the string of information that she had to listen continuously during her one month stay at Lady Maria hospital. Today would be the day she transfers to Saint Rose Psychiatric Hospital for Children, where she would go through more intensive therapy to recover memories she wouldn't even recall experiencing. She wondered what she could have forgotten, and how many important memories she had lost.

"...Possibilities include traumatic amnesia, source amnesia, partial retrograde amnesia, and severe anxiety. Currently in a stable condition to have a roommate. She will spend the rest of her recovery time here with you." he finally finished.

"Thank you, Doctor Harrison," the female receptionist replied. She was dressed in black business attire and wore her dark hair in a bun, a grim expression on her face. _Just like a funeral_, Petra thought. _It's like they're preparing for my death_. She tried to brush off the thought. She was all right. Her head injuries weren't going to be the end of her. Hopefully.

"Please come this way, Miss Ral." The voice of the receptionist interrupted her train of morbid thought. The two walked along the corridor of the hospital, with a nurse trailing behind to keep watch.

The ward was different from what Petra imagined. She had pictured bleak white walls, hundreds of forgotten patients crammed in rooms left with no one to care for them, and sinister nurses who reveled in the suffering of the patients.

Instead, she saw sandy honey colored walls, simple decor that gave the building a cozy atmosphere (she noticed that none of the decor had any glass or any other material one could potentially stab another with), and pictures strewn randomly on the walls, probably drawn by the patients judging from the broad spectrum of skill each one of them showed. The young nurse, although appearing slightly nervous, did not seem particularly evil, and so far she had not come across anything that looked like a torture chamber. They continued walking, an awkward silence hanging over the three women, the only sound being the clicking of the receptionist's high heels. After several turns, they finally came to a stop, revealing a cream colored door with a metal plating that had the number 057 in black paint.

"This will be your room, Miss Ral," the receptionist informed. "Your nurse will help you from here on." She turned around, the click of her high heels gradually becoming inaudible, leaving Petra with the nurse who looked like she was going to pass out any second, constantly wiping her palms on her nurse dress.

"Um, this way, please," she stammered. "Miss Ral," she added quickly. She took out a set of keys and carefully selected one to unlock the door. "I'll introduce you to your roommate." Petra could have sworn that she had hesitated to open the door for a few seconds. Was her roommate that unappealing to be with? What did she get into this hospital for? Maybe she was a serial killer? A maniac?  
She couldn't help but feel some sense of apprehension. This roommate of her was going to be the person she would be living with for God knows how long.

"...Miss Zoe?" the nurse said as she partially opened the door. "Your new roommate has arrived." She opened the door completely then, revealing a female figure looming over a desk in the corner of the room, her back facing the door. Her dark brown hair was tied in a scraggly ponytail and she was furiously writing on what looked like a journal. The figure turned around, revealing the rest of her features. She looked around Petra's age, perhaps a bit older. Large glasses sat on a large nose and covered most of her brown eyes, but even so, her eyes had a sharp glint that showed something Petra could not exactly identify.

The girl studied Petra, as if taking in every bit of information about her from her appearance, then smiled with a look of approval (Petra did not know whether to be relieved or scared). Then suddenly, she walked towards Petra, put an arm on her slight shoulder (she was much taller now that she was closer) and laughed loudly.

"Welcome to the laboratory!" she said. "I'm Hange Zoe, and you shall be my companion in this wonderful adventure! I shall show you the ways of our fellow soldiers, and we can form bonds that will last forever!" She ended with another hearty laugh. Petra felt the slight urge to stay an at least 5 foot distance away from this girl. She now understood why her nurse looked so jittery. But she managed a nervous smile and nodded.

Her nurse coughed to get the two roommates' attentions. "I'll show Miss Ral around the room, so..."

"No worries!" Hange interrupted. "I'll show her around. It will be our first bonding moment!"

"Um, all right. I guess it will be fine if I stay here while you show her."

Hange broke into a large smile that reminded Petra of a small child at a toy store. "Well then, come inside the room! No need to be shy here." Petra wasn't sure who was more scared—her or the nurse.

* * *

The first thing Petra noticed about the room was that it looked more like two rooms. It was separated into two areas that were the same size. Each side of the room had a plain bed, a nightstand, a small dresser, a waste bin, and a desk with a chair. In the center of the room there was a medium sized bookcase that held an infinite amount of journals and pieces of paper, as well as a small window. A small corridor led to what appeared to be a bathroom.

"This will be your part of the room, Miss Ral." The nurse motioned towards the area on the left, which was kept adequately tidy.

"But soon it will look like my side," Hange declared, waving a hand at her side of the room, which looked like it had just been through a tornado, with stray clothes lying on the floor, stacks of books and paper sitting on her desk, and a random assortment of photographs and diagrams taped on the wall next to her desk.

"We just cleaned it yesterday, too," the nurse muttered just within Petra's line of hearing. "Feel free to look around your room."

Petra opened the dresser to find a several plain white hospital gowns. Noticing her disappointment, the nurse added, "We will try to retrieve your old clothes if the gowns are not to your liking. We will also give you casual attire as soon as we can."

The rest of the room seemed rather adequate. She eyed the pictures on Hange's wall, particularly the photographs of her with what seemed to be her friends. She felt a twinge of envy, as she did not remember having such people close to her. Or maybe she didn't have any close friends in the first place. She vaguely recalled the faces of some people from school, but could not determine their significance to her. Maybe they were just faces she passed through at the hallway. No one really visited her at Maria's Hospital, so that had to say something.

The nurse handed her a folder and a journal. Opening the folder, Petra found several documents, ranging from the familiar medical patient surveys to what looked like a school schedule.

"You will have to attend classes during your stay here," the nurse informed. "We will incorporate therapy sessions every day as well, and school will be different than that of an average public school education." Petra couldn't help but feel slightly shocked. She had expected to just spend the rest of her days in a hospital cot until some miracle brought back her memories. She remembered the basics parts of school life, and although none of it seemed particularly bad, none of it seemed particularly great either. Nothing about school life stood out that much to her.

The nurse shifted a bit. "Well, I think we settled everything for the first day, so, um, I'll leave you to get ready for bed now. Oh, yes, something else." She scrounged around her pocket and pulled out a small cord with a piece of metal with a button attached to it.

"Here, put this around your wrist," she said as she handed it to Petra. "It's an emergency help button. Push the button if anything bad happens." She looked at Hange when saying the sentence. "Be sure not to lose it, and keep it with you all the time."

"Thank you," Petra said. She noted the nurse's look of surprise. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

"N-no, it's just that I was surprised that you finally talked. Most patients are either silent for days or talk on the first day..." she trailed off. "I'm sorry, that was rude. I'll be leaving now." She bowed before leaving the room.

* * *

After getting into one of the white hospital gowns and bathing herself, Petra laid herself in her bed. It was more comfortable than it looked, but it was not enough to calm her down. A pang of fear went through her. Just what exactly was she supposed to do here?

"So," Hange started, making her way to her own bed and leaning her head against the wall, her knees curled up against her chest. "What's your reason?"

"E-excuse me?" Petra asked.

"What got you here?" Hange questioned.

"Lacunar amnesia, traumatic amnesia, source amnesia, partial retrograde amnesia, severe anxiety, insomnia..." she listed

"No, I mean _how_ did you get those," Hange interrupted. "Murder? Victim? Trauma? Acquired disorder?"

She felt slightly put off by her straightforward nature of the question. "Got hit in the head with a beer bottle at a party. The doctors say that it might also have something to do with the fact that I saw my mother die a few years back, but they still aren't sure. They say that it's a combination of physical and mental trauma that got me here." Petra felt the need to say something to continue the conversation, even if the topic was rather disconcerting. "Um... what about you?" she asked.

Hange straightened her back and her mouth formed a straight line. _Perhaps the topic is too sensitive_, Petra thought. To her surprise, Hange answered her.

"My best friend got killed by some classmate who was a gang member. I got angry and tracked down the gang, and killed the guy. Killed some other people in the gang who helped him kill her. Injured a bunch of people. One of those guys I injured turned out to be close to the church. Stupid that they didn't care that I killed three people, but once I broke some church boy's arm they send me here, isn't it?"

She felt some awe that she could talk about this matter so flippantly. Perhaps she had recounted the story so many times that it has lost meaning to her.

"But it's okay, I'm fine now," Hange reassured, then chuckled lightly, much different from the wild cackling she had done earlier. "Listen to what I'm saying. 'I'm fine.' If I was fine, would I be in this place?" Another small laugh. It wasn't until now when Petra realized that there was more to Hange than meets the eye. Something told her that her story had more to it that the few sentences she had just said.

"Hey," Hange said. "You said your mom got killed. What about your dad?" she asked. The last word made Petra cringe a bit. _Dad_, she thought, _what a strange word to call him._

"It's not like he didn't love me or anything," she started. "But I feel like it wasn't until the accident when he actually showed signs of caring about me." Hange looked at her and only gave a nod of her head.

Petra continued on. "He always wanted what was best for me, but sometimes I felt like he thought what he thought was best was always right. He was a businessman, you see. And I was the only child so I guess he wanted to pass on the trade to me. So he tried to get me to do a lot of professional things. Tried to make sure I got the best grades. Wanted me to be the best at everything. When I wasn't the best, he would tell me that it was okay, but he still looked disappointed in me even then. Then he started talking to me about marriage. Pretty old fashioned of him, right? And then he would question my decisions all the time. But since I got into the hospital, he'd been visiting me every time he could. But he's busy with his business so he only visited twice when I was at Maria's. I guess I should feel grateful that he sent me here, because it seems like a good place, but I still kind of wish he could visit me from time to time." She paused. It's been a while since she's talked this much about herself to anyone. It was a fresh breath from having to talk to doctors about what she remembered (more of what she _couldn't _remember).

Hange stayed silent after a while. "I see," she finally said. It was silent for a while.

"Well, I should let you sleep. First night is always hard," Hange said as she turned off the lights. Petra noted her calmer tone in voice, almost motherly. "Hey, it'll be fine. If anything happens, you can talk about it to me. I'll introduce you to some of my friends tomorrow. I have a feeling you'll like them."

Nodding her head Petra curled up under the bedsheets. _It'll be fine_, she reassured herself.

**A/N: Please tell me if there is anything wrong you see in this fic (spelling, logic). I do not have that much knowledge about mental disorders and wards, so do tell me if anything is really unrealistic (but keep in mind I do have to keep some stuff unrealistic. This is fiction after all~) P.S. Who got the significance of Petra's room number?  
**

**Moving on I need help on what the other characters did such as:**

**Eren  
Mikasa  
Armin  
Levi  
Jean  
The rest of Squad Levi  
Krista  
Other major characters in SnK  
**

**So if you don't mind, please tell me your ideas on what these characters got into the hospital for. **

**Thank you for reading and please tell me what you think!**

**-Autumn**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello, thank you so much for the reviews! I'm glad that there's people out there who read my fics—it means a lot to me. I will try to regularly update the story when I can~ Anyway here's Chapter 2**

Chapter 2: How Do I Know That?

"Mama, is Papa mad at me?" a small girl asked. She clutched onto a small stuffed bear, watching people walking along the sidewalk swiftly disappear from the car window before she could even identify their faces.

"What makes you think that, dear?" her mother asked.

"Well," she started. "Ever since I told him I wanted to take dance lessons instead of getting tutoring, he's been looking kind of angry."

She heard nothing from her mother, but instead noticed her shoulders raise slightly and her grip tightening on the steering wheel.

"Mama, are you mad at me?" she asked.

"Of course not, Petra." Those words did not seem to convince her of that.

"Maybe I shouldn't do dance anymore," the girl suggested. "I'm not as good as the other kids, and I think it would make everyone happy..."

"Petra," her mother interrupted, her voice now sharper than before. "Don't say things like that."

The girl gave no response, only biting her lip and hugging the bear closer to her.

"Petra, can you listen to me?" her mother asked, her tone gentler.

She nodded in response.

"Your father and I love you very much. You know that, right?"

"Yes," she answered. She already knew where this discussion was headed.

"Sometimes we all have those times when we don't know what to do, so we make a lot of mistakes. Your father is under a very tough time right now, so he might do some things he doesn't mean to do. But let's both try to help him in this tough time, okay?"

"_Mama!_" the girl cried urgently. "What's that driver doing?"

Her mother turned around, revealing her face, but it was too blurry for Petra to see.

"Papa?" she timidly asked. _Please..._ she pleaded silently. _Please respond. Please don't pretend that I'm not there._

She waited for him to turn around, to face her. She wanted him to hug her and tell her that everything will be all right. That Mama was actually fine.

Instead she was met with no response. "Is there anything I can do?" she asked. What happened to what Mama said? That Papa loved her? How can he love her if he wouldn't even talk to her?

"Leave me alone, Petra," he flatly said. He didn't notice her daughter trying to stifle her tears. This is even worse than him not talking to her.

"Papa..." she whimpered. _Why don't you love me anymore?_

He sighed. "I'm sorry Petra, but I need some time to myself," he repeated, still refusing to face his daughter. "Go to sleep. You have school tomorrow."

She bit back her tears as she went up to her room, only to let them all out when she safely tucked herself into her own bed.

_"Isn't that Alexia's daughter?" a feminine voice whispered, her face nowhere in sight._

_"Looks like it," another voice answered, also without a face._

_"Poor thing, having her mother killed in a car accident like that."_

_"I hear that her father took it even worse."_

_"He has to take care of the business, too, doesn't he?"_

_"I hear that he's trying to get her daughter into the trade early."_

_"Must be hard for him."_

_"I'll say. Strange that she takes up everything her father tells her to do so obediently."_

_"How so?"_

_"Paula told me that she quit dance so that she can take more advanced academic classes."_

_"How advanced?" the woman inquired._

_"More so than your average middle school student. She's no prodigy, but I hear she's struggling. Not doing as well as her father expected."  
_

_"I suppose, but there's only so much hard work can lead you to. Natural talent is hard to come across."_

_"I suppose..."_

_"Should we talk to the child? She looks lost."_

_Don't talk to me, _she thought._ You don't actually care for me. You just feel sorry. Go away._

_"She'll probably break down, the poor thing looks like she'll collapse out of nervousness any second. Let's just leave her on her own."_

"Mama..." the girl cried. She said no more, only burying her face in her pillows to sob.

* * *

"Petra," someone called. "Oi, Petra. Petra, wake up!" She felt someone poking her sides.

She grumbled, "Five more minutes." Her request was denied, as she felt her covers ripped out of her hands. She instinctively curled herself into a ball to retain whatever warmth she could gain. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes to see the blurry outline of someone._ Mama?_

No, it was just Hange. _Oh that's right_, she remembered. _I'm in a mental ward. __  
_

"Get up, my apprentice!" Hange ordered. "We're late for breakfast. Then we have to get ready for classes. Judging by the fact you're my roommate, it looks like we'll share the same classes all day until you choose your own schedule."

"...Sure?" she replied uneasily, unsure whether or not that was a good thing.

"Here, I got your schedule and all the paperwork you need for school, too!" _If I recall those weren't on her side of the room. So that means..._

"You went through my folder?" she asked incredulously.

"Only saw the stuff I needed to see," Hange assured with a wave of her hand. "No time for that, we need to get breakfast. Then we have to get your school attire."

"My school attire?"

"You didn't think we would have all of our classes in our hospital gowns, did you? That would just be depressing. _Ha_, that was an interesting word to describe that. Most of the people here are already depressed. Hey, I think we can find a uniform in the closet that will look the cutest on you! I'll tell you everything on the way, too."

Despite her consistent babbling, Petra couldn't help but smile. She first felt a sense of annoyance at Hange's nosiness, but in some ways she found it quite endearing. It felt nice that someone was caring about her so much. It kind of felt like she was her mother.

She stopped at that thought. Was that how her mother treated her? It frustrated her that she didn't remember much about her mother. She knew that she was a kind woman, but did not recall any fond memories she had with her. Did she even remember what her mother looked like? She tried to summon an image of her, even just her facial features, but all that came to her mind was a blurry outline of a woman's face. Another pang of frustration, and something else. Regret? But what would she be regretting...

"Anyway, that's my schedule. Your therapy schedule will be different than mine because we're different people, and you'll probably have a different form of artistic therapy than mine. Unless you're interested in blowing stuff up with Moblit and me. Good times..."

_Blowing stuff up? Do they even allow that? _She prayed that Hange was just joking about it.

"This is the dining hall," Hange said. "I'll introduce you to everyone."

* * *

The breakfast hall was filled with people in the same white hospital gowns Petra and Hange were wearing. She wondered how people were able to tell everyone apart from one another when they all wore the same thing. Thankfully, Hange led her to a table with a sparse amount of people.

"Attention everyone," Hange announced. Petra cringed a bit. There were too many people looking at her. "This is my assistant Petra," she said while taking Petra's arm in her own. "She's going to join us so everyone be nice to her." Petra wished that Hange could speak a bit less loudly. People outside of the table were starting to give her strange looks, though she couldn't tell whether they were for her or Hange. She could have sworn some people gave her looks of pity.

"This is my minion Moblit. Feel free to order him around whenever you want," Hange said while grabbing a boy who looked older than Petra with sandy blond hair and light brown eyes. Despite the fact that he was taller than Hange, he made no attempt to free himself from Hange's grip, only rolling his eyes and sighing. With that, Hange let go of Moblit, who resumed to eating his Cheerios as if nothing had happened.

"The guy over there is Eren. And the girl next to him is Mikasa." She motioned towards a younger boy with green eyes and messy brown hair eating his breakfast ravenously, contrasting the delicate way the black haired girl next to him was eating, taking small bites out of her piece of toast, stopping occasionally to adjust a red scarf wrapped securely around her neck. The girl greeted Petra with a delicate bow of her head and nudged the boy next to him. The boy stopped to look up from his loaf of bread and stared at Petra for a moment, a slight scowl on his face. His gaze looked wary, as if determining whether or not Petra was safe to be near. Then he said what roughly sounded like a "hi," and went back to eating his bread.

"Just remember, whenever you want to find Mikasa, look for Eren. She follows him around like a little puppy. It's quite adorable, actually." The remark earned Hange a cold glare from the girl she had just referred to as Mikasa. Her eyes looked... almost empty, as if any traces of happiness in her stony eyes have been shattered. Hange, however, seemed unfazed by it and continued going along the breakfast table.

"That guy's name is Armin." She pointed to a blond boy who looked even more nervous than Petra. He only greeted her with a nod, but his tiny smile put Petra at ease. He looked much less intimidating than Eren and Mikasa.

"Hey, Moblit," Hange asked. "Why are there so little people here today?"

"They left before you came," Moblit replied. "Probably to avoid you."

"Who would want to avoid me?"

Moblit muttered what seemed to be a long list of people.

"Their loss. I guess Petra will have to meet them in class or something."

His attention shifted to Petra. "So you're Hange's roommate?"

Petra nodded.

Moblit leaned over to whisper in Petra's ear. "Just to tell you, you might want to keep far away from her during science class. She tends to get a bit insane. More insane than usual, I mean."

Isn't everyone in this facility insane? Wasn't that the reason everyone was here? Nonetheless, she made a mental note to keep Moblit's warning in mind.

"So," Moblit said, his voice now at regular volume. "Do you mind telling me how you got here, or are you not comfortable talking about it yet?" He spoke in an mild manner, polite and non-threatening, in contrast to Hange's loud bluntness.

She wondered if she should tell him the whole story, what she could remember out of it at least. Or maybe she should just tell him her main diagnosis. She decided to tell him less than what she told Hange last night, just to make it more basic. "Amnesia," she replied. "I tried to stop a fight, but I got hit in the head, instead." She smiled sheepishly.

Moblit made no effort to pry more information out of her, for which she was thankful. "I see..."

"...And you?" Petra asked.

"Abuse victim," he replied calmly, though he started to pick at his meal, his fingers fiddling with a Cheerio. "My father wasn't the most pleasant man. He would starve me and hit me whenever I did something he didn't like. Apparently it messed me up enough to get sent here. Probably had something to do with the fact I tried to hang myself."

It amazed her how so much suffering, even if it lasted for years, could be summarized in just a few sentences.

The chiming of a bell sounded across the dining hall.

"Petra," Hange called. "Let's go get your clothes for school!"

"Didn't the nurse say that I had to pick out clothes with her or something?" she protested.

"Details, details," Hange said with a flippant wave of her hand. "We're in a mental facility. They expect us to not do what we say."

* * *

"And we're here at the clothing room! You're only allowed to take a specific amount of clothing at a time, and you can replace your clothes only if you outgrow them or if they become so ruined that you just can't wear them anymore." They were in what looked like a large closet, with shelves of clothes in different sizes piled randomly. Some were kept in plastic bags and others just lay on top of boxes. A full body mirror hung in the corner of the room, but was coated in a fine layer of dust.

Petra eyed Hange's own clothing. Her button down shirt and slacks did not stand out that much, albeit giving her a somewhat boyish appearance. However, she noticed that she still wore her large glasses that erased any idea that she was normal. Her forest green blazer was also worth noticing.

"How about this? It'll make you stand out on your first day." She held a white button down shirt not unlike her own, as well as a pair of white pants. They looked like they were in fair condition, but she couldn't help but think that they would be extremely inconvenient, particularly every month...

"Never mind, it'll be awkward when you have your period," Hange mused to herself, then rummaged around the stacks of clothes. "Here try this on," she said, throwing a plastic bag labeled _Girls Uniform Set 2 Size S._

She gingerly took out the content of the bag, finding a similar white button down shirt, a grey sweater, a black pleated skirt, black knee high socks, a red necktie, and black shoes.

"Where do I change?" she asked.

Hange pointed to solid wooden shelf. "Behind there."

Part of her felt uncomfortable to change somewhere so exposed. Hange was a nice person and all (albeit somewhat scary at times), but still...

_Suck it up, _she told herself. _She's not a guy or anything. _

She scrambled behind the bookshelf (or was it a clothes shelf?) and put on her new clothes.

"Are you done yet?" Hange asked. "Let me see how you look."

Petra stepped out and walked towards the mirror. She looked like the world's dullest schoolgirl. Petra had to admit that the clothes weren't that bad though—they fit on her and were made with decent material. The sweater was a bit big on her, but having a body small for most clothes was something she had always had to live with.

"It looks nice on you," Hange complimented her. "I'm too tall to wear that kind of stuff." She then looked at the clock. "We should probably get to class soon. Here, take these." She threw Petra the same set of clothes but in a blue tone. She also handed Petra a handful of clothes from the small bin. "We can exchange the clothes during free time if they don't fit."

Hange rushed Petra out of the closet, still in her "uniform."

"But my hospital gown..." Petra trailed.

"You have plenty more in your room drawers. They're replaceable," Hange assured, as they ran to their room.

* * *

"So, when am I supposed to wear these and what about the hospital gowns?" Petra asked, motioning towards what was probably going to be her school uniform (hospital uniform? public uniform?) for a while.

Hange handed a stack of papers to Petra. _These are the papers she took from my desk this morning._ She had forgotten that she had taken them. On the top of the stack she saw her schedule.

**_Name: Petra Ral_**_  
Current Status: B  
_

_8:00 —Wake Up  
8:30 – 9:15 —Dining Hall Open for Breakfast  
9:15 – 9:25 —Prepare for Classes  
9:30 – 12:30 —Academic Classes  
12:30 – 1:15 —Dining Hall Open for Lunch; Take Medications if Prescribed at Room 14  
1:15 – 2:30 —Psychoanalytic Therapy (Erwin Smith Room 6)  
2:30 – 3:15 —Group Therapy (groups will switch on regular basis)  
3:15 – 3:45 — Physical Therapy  
3:45 – 5:00 —Extracurricular Activities (See back of schedule for choices)  
5:00 – 6:00 —Free Time (See back of schedule for classes available during free time)  
6:00 – 7:00 —Dining Hall Open for Dinner  
7:00 – 8:30 —Free Time  
8:30 —Return to Dorms; Journal Entries  
9:30 – 6:30 —Lights Out  
_

"After breakfast, we have ten minutes to get dressed and do whatever you need to get ready for our academic classes. You know, the boring high school classes that no one really pays attention to. And we don't even get to dissect anything in science, either," she whined with exasperation in her voice. "Last time I tried to get into the medical supply room I got caught and sedated..."

She started zoning out for a bit (it helped that Hange was so occupied babbling about the difference between human guts and moose guts to notice that Petra wasn't paying attention). She picked up the words "chainsaw," "Moblit," and "dice him like a Rubik's cube."

"Hange?" Petra interrupted, desperate to change the morbid topic of discussion (which said a lot considering they were in a mental ward).

"Hm?" Hange stopped her ranting and tilted her head in acknowledgement.

"I was just wondering..." Crap. She didn't know what to talk about. She was just focusing on getting Hange to stop talking about the ways you can injure someone with a chainsaw without killing them (all right, so maybe she was listening a little bit). _Talk about people_, the little voice in her head told her. _That always works with girls..._

"So, um, what did Eren and Mikasa get into here for?" she asked. "And Armin, too. They look so sweet and I can't imagine what they could've done to get here."

She saw Hange's expression darken, her eyes looking at the floor. "There's a rule around here. Not an official one, but just an unspoken rule of thumb. You don't reveal other people's mental conditions to people." She spoke more seriously than she had a few minutes ago, and her hands carefully adjusted her large glasses. "People talk shit about others because they don't understand them. Sure, the person may be an unlikeable jerk, but that doesn't change the fact that we don't understand them. Understand me so far?"

Petra nodded, her head bowed down ashamedly, regretful for asking such an insensitive question, and a private one at that, too. She knew what it was like for people to pry into her personal life, for people to ask everyone about Petra except herself. _And how do I know that..._

"Good," Hange said. "So make sure not to do that." They walked in silence. Petra suddenly missed the loud and energetic Hange who talked about her exploits sneaking into the emergency surgery room. A quiet Hange unsettled her. Gone was the gleaming excitement in her eyes as she talked. Instead she had a hard look on her face, her eyes looked straight forward to where she was walking.

They stopped at a door labeled _Classroom 2-A._

"Here's our classroom," Hange broke the silence. She turned the doorknob and strode into the room. Petra followed suit. But there was a nagging feeling within her that told her this classroom wasn't going to be like a regular high school class.

**A/N: Hello hello~ I'm sorry I hadn't introduced that many people. Unfortunately, this chapter was necessary for exposition and to set things up for the plot. I promise I will introduce Levi and the others later.  
**

**If anyone can guess what the B means on Petra's schedule, you get a cookie~**

**Just to note, Petra doesn't remember her dream. And one of the amnesia diagnoses she has (source amnesia) is when she knows basic facts about her past, but she doesn't remember how she knows that. This is why she knows how her body is usually small for clothes and how Hange treats her like her mother.**

**Reader input time: Would you like to see the story in exclusively Petra's POV or would you want to see some chapters in the eyes of other characters? (Levi, Hange, Eren, Mikasa, Krista). Let me know in the reviews! You guys can also continue sharing your ideas on what each character got into the ward for. I love hearing from you guys and I have taken all of your ideas into consideration.**

**Has anyone noticed that fanfiction has a Shingeki no Kyojin archive and an Attack on Titan archive? I mean, why can't we combine the two? They're the same show. Does anyone else agree?**

**Thanks for reading!**

**~Autumn**


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